


Mists and Mirages

by alex_greene



Category: The Incredibles (2004)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_greene/pseuds/alex_greene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of The Incredibles, but before the followup stories and comics, between the end of the movie and the time Mirage comes to work for the NSA, she meets a new Super who moves into Metroville to fill the void left by the deaths of all the Supers from the movie.</p><p>While investigating a case that involves some leftover technology from the movie, Mirage and the new Super, Silver Mist, enjoy a fling whilst dodging the attacks from the Incredibles, who believe Mirage to be the same unredeemed character she was from the movie, and from one of Silver Mist's old foes, who's made the crossing into Metroville, following his nemesis, The Flare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rising Mist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirage is rescued from imminent arrest from the island of Nomanisan by a British Super, Silver Mist, who is capable of teleportation and control over mists and fogs, and of phasing through matter. He brings her to Metroville, where she discovers the extent of the harm Syndrome has caused to the city in his mad efforts to be recognised as a Super. Confronted by the death of her former employer Syndrome, she mourns him.
> 
> Silver Mist explains that he has moved to Metroville on the trail of some of Syndrome's technology, notably his zero-point energy gauntlets, since Syndrome had appropriated some of the technical knowhow from the United Kingdom's Aldermaston facility, where they had been independently working on the same technology.
> 
> Silver Mist next takes her out to a fancy French restaurant, in his civilian identity as wealthy, apparently unaging, socialite August Cranley. Despite his awkwardness with women, he and Mirage develop an attraction. The chapter ends with Mirage taking Silver Mist to a safe house of hers, where she begins the tour of her pad with the bedroom ...

Mirage sighed, and tapped out another long string of seemingly random letters and numbers into the terminal in front of her, the staccato tapping of the keyboard echoing in the grey walls of the room.

She pressed enter. Another harsh buzz and flashing red screen, and stern words informing her that yet another bank account had been frozen.

Mirage sat back and looked around her. The room was empty; one of many empty rooms, now vacant, deserted. All the little grey-clad minions had run off, taking off in anything that could fly or float, desperate to get as far away from the little island of Nomanisan as possible before it was too late. However, it already was too late for them all - the radar scanner showed a ring of green dots surrounding the island, ten kilometres out. Agency ships, a secret fleet of battleships.

A ring of grey steel, without and - by all appearances, judging by her failure to access her finances - within.

Mirage got up from the chair and crossed the room to the large panoramic window overlooking the sea. She loved this room. Often, she would come here to look at the bay, the rising moon shining on the waters. Far below her was the lagoon with the hidden underwater entrance and dock; briefly, Mirage wondered whether the flying submersible was still there, and contemplated summoning an elevator car to get there, but she suspected that the jungle was already crawling with NSA men searching for stragglers who'd gone to ground, and the car on its little monorail would be an easy target for them. And then she remembered that Syndrome had already taken it anyway, to jaunt off to Metroville to pull off his little crime.

Besides, she realised as she saw the black dots streaking across the sky, the flying sub was no match for the Agency's advanced jet fighter interceptors and attack helicopters.

She turned away from the window, suddenly fearful at the thought of a helicopter suddenly descending in front of the window; terrified of the prospect of her imminent arrest and detention by the Agency. If she officially did not exist, what rights could she claim?

'Knock knock.'

The unfamiliar voice, saying the words in a distinctive British accent rather than knocking, startled her. Mirage turned, to see that a figure had somehow entered the room to her left. There was no door on the left; just a solid wall of unbroken volcanic rock.

The figure was about her height; a dapper, slender man with silvering hair and a trim athletic figure, dressed in a light grey suit with a fedora hat. Despite his silvery hair, his eyes and face were ageless, darting about, sizing up the room before he moved. Around him was a slowly-dissipating nimbus of grey mist. He stepped forwards towards her, curls of fading mist clinging to him in his passing.

'You are Mirage,' the man said.

'I am,' Mirage replied. 'Who are you?'

'Silver Mist,' the man said. 'I have some news for you. Please. Take a seat.'

Mirage sat down in the chair in front of the terminal she'd just been using. She looked at Silver Mist, whose face grew heavy and sad.

'Your former employer, Buddy Pine - Syndrome, to you - is dead.'

Shock drained the blood from Mirage's face. She gazed steadily at Silver Mist. 'You're serious,' she said. 'How did he die? When did he die? Who are you?'

'Come with me, please,' Silver Mist said, extending his hand. 'You have very little time. The Agency's men have landed on Nomanisan, and they are converging on this room as I speak. Other than the Agency, you are the only person left of Syndrome's former business empire standing on Nomanisan's soil.' He looked at her. 'As well as the asset they now most want to get their hands on.'

Mirage hesitated; but hearing Silver Mist speak of the Agency in the third person rather than first person, she gulped, stood up and took Silver Mist's extended hand. Already, she could hear the sound of running boots. A faint cry of "Look! Up there! Who's that with her?" meant that she had just been seen. There now was nowhere for her to run any more.

'We'll take the express,' Silver Mist said, grinning. 'The same way I came in. Close your eyes.' Mirage complied. A chill caressed her body and head, making her shiver to her bones. For a moment she felt numb: all bodily sensation, from sight to smell and touch, faded away. Only for a moment.

* * *

Mirage noticed that the acoustics had changed; she no longer heard the incessant rush of computer heat sinks and fans, and the sound of the approaching men had ceased. A cool breeze caressed her body, and she realised that the lighting, the smells, everything had changed around her.

'Open them now,' Silver Mist whispered. Mirage opened her eyes. She was standing with Silver Mist in an empty street, on a street corner of what looked like a business district of some sort.

'We are in the business district of Metroville,' Silver Mist said.

'You can teleport,' Mirage said. 'You're a Super.'

'I am, that,' Silver Mist replied. 'And I can. As well as pass through walls, and a few other tricks.'

'I never heard of you,' Mirage said.

'You're not the only Super who, officially, does not exist,' Silver Mist replied. 'In another lifetime, you see ... I was you.'

'What do you mean?'

'I have been active, and unaging, since the Thirties,' Silver Mist said. 'In the Forties, I was assigned to Bletchley Park, where a young man called Turing showed the world that it was not just us Supers who can be super. I learned much from him, and not long before the Supers Relocation Act I despaired at the unforgivable way his own government treated him for his sexual predilections. It was quite illegal to be a homosexual at that time, you know.'

'What was your base of operations?'

'Oh, I worked in England and the rest of the British Isles, mostly,' Silver Mist said. 'I love the Highlands of Scotland; and North Wales' Snowdonia mountain range boasts some impressive mists and fogs, rolling down from the wicked, unforgiving slopes of Snowdon.'

'So you were never affected by the Supers Relocation Act,' Mirage said.

'Indeed,' Silver Mist replied. 'Instead of being forced to relocate and relinquish my superheroics, I continued plying my quiet craft in the service of Her Majesty's Government, dispatching the enemies of Great Britain wherever they appeared.'

'What brought you here, across the pond?' Mirage asked, already dreading the answer.

'Some of Syndrome's activities adversely impinged upon the United Kingdom's interests, I'm afraid,' Silver Mist replied. 'Employees of your late boss appropriated certain documents and blueprints for technologies we had been developing. We'd heard of how he'd developed the concepts of zero-point energy and fashioned them into powerful weapons, but of course we didn't have to wonder too much about how he'd built such tools so quickly. Not after his raid on our secret Aldermaston facility two years ago.' Silver Mist looked at Mirage. 'A raid which you coordinated, I do believe.'

'Yes,' Mirage said. 'Syndrome had delegated that task to me. I think he'd already worked out how to access it. Your technology just gave him what he needed to learn how to harness and focus that energy.'

'That was our surmise,' Silver Mist said. 'Come with me,' he said, gesturing. He walked around the corner. Mirage followed.

She stopped. Mirage bit her knuckle, her eyes widening with horror.

'Your machine did this,' Silver Mist said. 'Take a good look.'

'The Omnidroid did this?'

'Yes,' Silver Mist said, gesturing. A trail of destruction stretched from one end of the street to the other. Cars lay crushed as if they had been little more than bugs stepped on by a gigantic foot; black smoke rose from burning vehicles. An inferno being tackled by a trio of firefighter trucks marked the spot where a gasoline tanker had been thrown with great force and its contents ignited.

'The area was fortunate,' Silver Mist said, looking at the tanker. 'It had dropped off most of its load. If it had been full, the explosion would have incinerated this whole area.'

Mirage saw large wet patches, areas of sheet ice melting, scars which could only have come from the Omnidroid's laser, and massive structural damage which could only have come from the spherical, ambulatory robot that Syndrome had unleashed on Metroville.

'Can you tell me something?'

Mirage looked at Silver Mist. 'What?'

'Do you think any of this ... the deaths of all those Supers ... was justified in any way?'

Mirage looked at the destruction. She gasped, trembling.

'You see it, too,' Silver Mist said. 'It ran over occupied cars, shot at others. Your little baby murdered hundreds of people. And for what purpose?'

'I ... I, er ...'

'Was it money?' Silver Mist asked. 'I heard Syndrome had plenty of that, from all the weapons he'd designed. So did he want more? Is that it?'

Mirage gaped and stammered. 'No ... no, it wasn't that ...'

'What was it, then?'

Breaking down, sobbing, Mirage turned to Silver Mist and told him everything. About how Syndrome, as a young boy called Buddy Pine, had once been a devoted fan of a Super called "Mr Incredible," but had turned against the super when rejected by his role model.

Mirage told Silver Mist how Buddy, vowing revenge, grew up an insane psychopath and megalomaniacal malignant narcissist, desperate to upstage his former favourite Super, developed weapons to build a fortune, bought Nomanisan and arranged to construct his base, then developed Project Kronos: his master plan to eliminate all the remaining Supers, then wreak havoc so that Syndrome could fraudulently save the day by defeating his own creation, thus somehow becoming recognised by the civilian community as a Super.

'He did all that to become a Super by deception?' Silver Mist said, shaking his head. 'Couldn't he have just, I don't know, beat up a couple of muggers or bank robbers, or prevented a plane crash or something worthy? Why did he have to kill so many civilians and Supers?'

Silver Mist draped his arm about Mirage's shoulder as she continued to sob, resting her head on his shoulder as she leaned into him.

'Come on,' he said, as mist swirled about them again. 'Let me show you something else.'

* * *

Another moment of numbing cold followed; and again, as the mists cleared, Mirage felt that everything had changed around her. The smells of burning had changed, become stronger. The fuel smell was also different - it now smelled of jet fuel. She opened her eyes, and looked on a scene of domestic wreckage. It looked as it somebody had dropped a plane on a house in the suburbs.

She blinked. Somebody had dropped a plane on a suburban house. She recognised the outline from part of the wreckage jutting out of what had once been the house's roof, and she groaned.

'This was where Syndrome died,' Silver Mist said.

'How?'

'He tried to kidnap a baby,' Silver Mist said. 'The baby turned out to be Mr Incredible's son. He threw a car at his plane.'

'That's pretty dark of him,' Mirage said.

'From what I was told, Syndrome's cape got caught in the jet turbine. Then the plane blew up and fell down here. Right on the Incredibles' home.'

'Were there any survivors?'

'The whole family,' Silver Mist said.

'Just ... not Syndrome,' Mirage said, unexpectedly feeling her vision blur with tears.

'Crying for Syndrome?' Silver Mist asked. Mirage nodded.

'Somebody might as well,' she sniffled.

'Despite all the pain and misery he caused, and all the people who have died, you still mourn him.'

'He was once a kid, you know.'

'So were all those who died, once.'

Mirage wiped her eyes with her sleeve. 'It's just that ... if it were me lying there dead, I don't think anybody would mourn me.'

'If you were lying there, you'd have been a person responsible for hundreds of deaths,' Silver Mist said. 'Not counting those killed and maimed by the weapons you made and exported.'

'No ... I meant, who'd be there to mourn me?'

'Not Syndrome, at any rate,' Silver Mist said, gently. 'He might have shrugged, or looked puzzled. I know the type. I've put enough of them down in my time. There are a few from Berlin whose time has yet to come,' he added, cracking his knuckles. 'South America awaits.'

'Are you going there now?' Mirage said. Silver Mist shook his head.

'Not yet,' he replied. 'I could do with something from you.'

'Is this why you rescued me?' Mirage asked.

'Something like that,' Silver Mist replied.

'What is it you want?'

'Accommodation,' Silver Mist said. 'Here, in Metroville. A few weeks. Just long enough.'

'Long enough for what?'

'Let me show you,' Silver Mist replied, and once again a cold nimbus rose about Mirage.

* * *

The building was cold, dark and empty. Mirage looked around her.

'What is this place?' she asked, her fingers stroking a bare grey wall, feeling the cold of the concrete beneath her fingertips.

'An abandoned property,' Silver Mist said. 'It was once an office building which belonged to an innocuous company called Ice Block Holdings, back in the day. It has been abandoned for about fifteen years.' He smiled. 'I just bought the deed to the place from the attorney who has been holding this property for his clients. A small group of inventors who, among other things, supported such notables as The Thrilling Three and Doc Sunbright.' He looked at Mirage as her eyes opened. 'The Bright Sparks. Yes. I see you remember them.'

He walked around the corner, into a darkened corridor. 'Come along,' he said, his voice echoing. 'It's this way.'

Mirage followed, her footsteps echoing in the dusty corridor, as Silver Mist approached the end of the corridor, lit by a skylight overhead. The corridor terminated in a wooden door bearing a plaque which read "SANITATION EQUIPMENT." Silver Mist opened it and entered, beckoning for Mirage to join him.

The broom closet was empty, but for some dusty sheets of old newspaper lying wadded in one corner. Silver Mist reached for what looked like a junction box, and pulled it open. Inside was a palm print scanner. He placed his palm on the plate; it glowed and scanned his hand.

Suddenly, the floor lurched and began to sink downwards. Mirage yelped with surprise and clutched Silver Mist's arm. Silver Mist smiled.

'I learned that their old security systems have remained active all this time, as has the power source of their base,' he said. 'The Bright Sparks built this place to last.' He looked at Mirage. 'Of course, I obtained the passcodes and secured authorisation for myself.'

The elevator reached its base and lurched to a halt. Mirage stepped away from Silver Mist, blushing slightly, and looked around her, her almond eyes wide with wonder.

Around her was a vast, black space. The only light came from a spotlight overhead, shining on a patch of ground in front of the elevator.

'Lights,' Silver Mist said. Striplights came on, one bank at a time, illuminating a vast, cavernous space; before them, a catwalk crossed a deeply sunken canyon accessible by steel stairs, at the bottom of which were bays for various vehicles, all empty, and what looked like the base's power plant, a concrete semicircle jutting out of the bedrock with control consoles nearby.

Across the catwalk was the former Bright Sparks' main base; a set of platforms at various heights, connected by catwalks and stairs, with a large central area housing the base's computer console and holographic display - a display which sprang to life, generating a vast, spectral snowflake hovering over the centre panel.

'Welcome,' boomed a soft male voice.

'Computer,' Silver Mist said, 'recognise Mirage.'

A beam of light lanced down from the ceiling to scan Mirage. Her image appeared in the space over the central console, accompanied by red lights flashing.

'Warning. Known associate of Supervillain known as Syndrome. Wanted by NSA.'

'New information,' Silver Mist said. 'Reformed, following death of Syndrome.' He glanced upwards. 'Stand down defences. She's on my side.' He looked at her. 'At least I hope you are.'

'You've shown me nothing but kindness so far,' Mirage said.

'Thank you,' Silver Mist replied.

'One question,' Mirage asked. 'I have to ask you. Why?'

'Why what?'

'Why are you doing all this? Helping me?'

'Something you said,' Silver Mist replied. 'Valuing life is not weakness. And disregarding it is not strength.'

Mirage gasped, her eyes widening. 'How did you hear that?'

'Hear what? What you said?'

'Yes! I ... I only said that once, to Syndrome, in the control room back in Nomanisan!' Mirage said. 'I said it only to him! I've never said it to anybody else! How did you know?'

Silver Mist smiled. 'I have my resources,' he said. 'I've had an eye on you, Mirage, for some time. I've been wondering when you'd come around and realise how deep Syndrome's sickness ran. Wondering when you'd realise that you weren't like him. Wondering when you'd see past the power and lust.'

'What do you want me to do here, then?'

'Run the computer,' Silver Mist replied. 'Keep me informed while I'm out on patrol.'

'Locked away here, in a windowless basement,' Mirage said, sarcastically. 'You know how to treat your women, don't you?'

Silver Mist's expression did not change. 'Let's get something to eat,' he said. 'Show me some of your American food.'

'I know a place,' Mirage replied. She snapped her fingers. 'Damn. All my money's frozen by the NSA.'

'I'll buy,' Silver Mist said. 'It's on me.'

'Well, then, I'll have to change into something suitable,' Mirage replied.

Silver Mist handed her his credit card. 'Can you find your way out, or do you want me to give you a lift into town?'

'I'll order a cab,' Mirage replied, grinning.

* * *

'How do I look?'

'Actually,' Silver Mist said, some time later, outside Marchaud's, 'you look spectacular.' He took her arm, and they entered. He himself had changed into formal attire for the evening.

'I phoned ahead,' Silver Mist said, as they approached the maitre-d'.

'Oui? J'vous aidez?'

'Avez-vous des réservations pour deux? Nom de Monsieur et Madame August Cranley?' Silver Mist replied. His French accent was cosmopolitan Parisian, as flawless as a native.

The maitre-d' checked his book, and nodded. 'Monsieur et Madame Cranley. Mon plaisir. Suivez-moi, s'il vous plaît.'

'He noticed that neither of us is wearing a ring,' Mirage said, as they entered the restaurant.

'Don't worry,' Silver Mist said. 'They're probably used to "married" couples like this.'

'"Married," eh? You presume too much.'

'It's just a formality,' Silver Mist replied. 'Here we are. Please.' Mirage sat in the chair which had been pulled out for her by the maitre-d'. Silver Mist sat opposite her.

'And what do we do now?' Mirage asked, accepting the wine menu. 'Play footsie underneath the table?'

'H'mm,' Silver Mist said. 'Or we could talk business.'

'You're serious,' Mirage said, sitting back.

'I've only known you a few hours,' Silver Mist replied. 'I don't want to seem too forward.'

'Oh, that famous British reserve,' Mirage said. 'I should have known.' By the wry grin on her face, her emotion was not one of disappointment.

* * *

They began with a light starter; lightly grilled curls of Little Gem lettuce surmounted by pieces of goat's cheese, with a sprinkling of lemon juice.

'Tell me about you and Syndrome,' Silver Mist asked. 'Unless it's a touchy subject. When did you two meet?'

'It was a while back,' Mirage said. 'He needed an assistant, and I was a ghost in the system who could get the job done on his computers. We had an interview, and I guess we hit it off straightaway.' She sipped at the light aperitif. 'I've always been attracted to men of power. It's my weakness.'

'Mmm,' Silver Mist said, nodding. 'I understand. How's the starter?'

'It's magnificent,' Mirage said. 'The chef here is very inventive.'

'That he is,' Silver Mist replied.

'Your turn,' Mirage said, leaning forwards. 'When did you become, well, Silver Mist?'

'It was a long process,' Silver Mist replied. 'My father was Isambard Cranley, the noted engineer. Whatever he turned his hand to, seemed to have this incredible life to it, as if the very metal he put together in his bridges and ships was imbued with vitality. He had a genius for large scale engineering - whereas I, on the other hand, had inherited his flair but on the small scale. A talent first for clockworks, for chemistry and later, for smaller things. Circuits and transistors, and later memristors. I was always tinkering, and developed integrated circuit boards and processor chips a good long while back. Long before they became commercially available.'

'What did you do with that knowledge?' Mirage asked, leaning forwards further, placing her chin on her steepled hands.

'I built devices to help me,' Silver Mist replied. 'Here.' He produced a small, rectangular object which looked like a thick, flat pane of glass, about the size of a cigarette case. He touched the glass, and icons appeared on the surface.

'It takes and receives telephone messages, can send and receive text from a base computer, keeps excellent time, hosts a number of interesting applications which I programmed myself, and ...' He held the back of the device to Mirage, and touched a button. A moment later, he turned the object around. Mirage gasped. He'd taken a photograph of her face, leaning into him, her eyes clearly expressing her interest. Silver Mist smiled.

'And ... it is a camera,' he said. 'I used it to take forensic pictures of crime scenes, and built a computer to store the information. This was all far in advance of the technologies available at the time,' he said. 'Alan Turing had just invented electronic devices to defeat the Germans during the war, and we're not really supposed to talk about that. The most sophisticated electronic computers known would have filled this entire restaurant. And I was playing with this toy.'

'And the mist, the fog, the other stuff?'

'I discovered that I was a Super when I was in my teens,' Silver Mist said. 'It was by chance that I learned how to become insubstantial like mist, to discorporate and reform somewhere else instantaneously, and to generate thick mists and fog from moisture in the air. I could turn rain, hail, sleet or snow into a fine mist, anywhere, and over vast areas. Invisibility was also something I discovered that I could do.'

'Fascinating,' said Mirage, gazing intently at the man. 'And what about your career?'

'I was recruited into the civil service,' Silver Mist said. 'I became a kind of ... civil servant, working for a very secretive employer.'

'Like that man in those movies with the girls painted all gold, and the Aston Martin with the ejector seat?' Mirage said, grinning. 'Or perhaps more like that one with the blond Russian and the American who talked into his pen?'

Silver Mist chuckled. 'Nothing like that,' he said. 'Nothing so glamorous. I hardly saw any women in my line of work. Most of it was just sneaking into various well-defended establishments, a task for which I had a unique talent, and taking copious photographs of documents which others did not want us to know about. I was actually quite good at it, shuttling backwards and forwards across the Iron Curtain as if it were a line on the ground.

'And then my partner got himself killed. Stepped on a landmine while infiltrating a Russian military base outside of Kursk. He was a hundred metres in front of me. The minefield had been new - nobody had known about it in the briefing. At any rate, there was nothing left for me to take home, and neither of us was carrying any identification. I got in, got the job done, got out and left the service as soon as I got home - which did not take long, considering I'd just mastered teleportation.

'That left a huge gap in my life,' Silver Mist said. 'So I filled it by fighting supercriminals, rather than countries.'

'Ah,' Mirage said, leaning back as the main course arrived. Bouillabaisse, served with squid draped on the top, and side dishes of mayonnaise and Gruyère cheese, and toasted baguette slices.

Conversation was light. They spoke at length of history, of the war and the post-war period before the Supers Relocation Act, which was now regarded as the Golden Age of Supers. Mirage spoke of the space programme, and her desire to get into astronautics - a wish which, she feared, would never come true with her criminal record barring her from joining any kind of space organisation.

Silver Mist spoke of traditional French cuisine, and how he'd sampled a most magnificent wine in a burned-out old village in Normandy one day, while the Allies were pushing the Germans back. The building had collapsed, but the wine cellar had miraculously remained intact, albeit buried beneath the rubble that was all that remained of the house. There had been three survivors, a widow and her two daughters, trapped beneath the debris; a routine rescue for Silver Mist, who'd dissolved through the floor into the cellar, to teleport the survivors to the surface.

'They introduced me to these gorgeous little framboises Marthas,' he said. 'Once they'd managed to get on their feet again. Nothing I could do as Silver Mist, but as August Cranley, I was able to do a lot for them. I set them up in a nearby village, which hadn't suffered as much as theirs. The widow set herself up as a small patisserie, making these exquisite little pastries. I visited them, ten years after the end of the war. I hadn't aged - I haven't physically aged since 1936 - so I told them I was the younger brother of the original Silver Mist. I think the children bought that explanation. I don't think the mother did.' He sipped some wine.

'Did you ...?' Mirage asked.

'With her? No,' Silver Mist replied, nibbling on a baguette slice soaked with the bouillabaisse soup. 'She'd found somebody in those ten years. A nice man. Michel something. Good with dough. Complemented her skills with pastries. Good partnership.'

Mirage nodded, sipping at her white wine.

'How about you?'

Mirage canted her head. 'Do you mean, have I ever been intimate?'

'Yes.'

'With Syndrome?'

'He was the last man in your life.'

Mirage thought about it. 'It was strange,' she said. 'He was ... a gentleman, at first. Courteous, curious, polite. But there was something ... off ... about him. Intimacy was ... perfunctory,' she said, swallowing wine. 'We slept together, and often enough he pleasured me, but ...' She sighed. 'But when it was over, he would not stay in bed and cuddle. He would get up and pace around by the big window, muttering and planning revenge. Always muttering; always weaving his little plans. As if what he did with me, to pleasure me, was an obligation, somehow. A duty. Or even, I suspect, a chore.'

'A chore?'

'A distraction,' Mirage whispered. 'I think that his plan for vengeance was his one true love, and at times I felt like the other woman in his life. Though he was, for all that, very good in bed. Skilled and attentive, sometimes inventive and creative. He used his tongue, his fingers, his lips. He liked to caress the parts of my body that made me hot - I think they call them erogenous zones nowadays. He'd sometimes bring food to bed, feeding me chocolates or pastries with exotic tropical fruits, so we'd be enjoying pleasures like taste and smell while we -'

Silver Mist blushed. 'Do I really need to know this?' he murmured.

'I'm just telling you what happened,' Mirage replied. 'He was an ... adequate lover, considerate of my feelings, but he could never let go. Always at work on his plan for vengeance. Obsessed over it.'

'I see.'

'And then,' Mirage said, 'he shot down an aeroplane with children on board, and he almost got me killed on a dare. At that point,' she said, 'you might imagine how I could have fallen out with him.'

'Now I can well understand that,' Silver Mist said. 'This food is delicious, isn't it?'

'Gorgeous,' Mirage replied. 'Here. Try one of these.'

Silver Mist tasted the soup on her spoon. His eyes closed with pleasure. 'Oh. Oh, that is ...' he said, opening his eyes and looking at her. Her eyes were open, focused on him.

'Which ones were they?'

Mirage pointed to something dark floating in his bowl. 'One of them,' she replied.

'Oh,' Silver Mist said. As the maitre-d' walked past, he looked at him.

'S'il vous plaît d'exprimer mes compliments au chef. C'est magnifique.'

'Bien, merci,' the maitre-d' replied, grinning.

The rest of the conversation just skirted on non-essential topics: the difficulties of adapting to life in the States; speculation on what could happen in the wake of the return of Supers; the Supers of Europe and Asia, who never got caught up in the American Supers Relocation Act.

Eventually, dessert arrived: some framboises Marthas, delicate little oval pastries containing raspberries in a bright red raspberry sauce, served on a plate with a light sprinkling of more red raspberry sauce.

'Watch your clothes,' Silver Mist said, watching as Mirage attempted to eat one, the red sauce trickling down her fingers and staining her lips. She giggled.

'They are a challenge to eat,' she said, 'but oh ...' She took another bite. Her eyes rolled up into her head as she lost herself to the taste.

Afterwards, coffees, served Irish style, black and hot with a thick layer of cream on top, laced with a generous amount of brandy. They sipped slowly, looking at one another, Mirage getting a slight cream moustache from hers and licking it off slowly as Silver Mist watched.

'So,' Mirage murmured, as they reached the end of their coffee, 'what now? Do we leave, this moment, and do something nocturnal and heroic, or shall we stay here making small talk until they start putting chairs on tables?' She smiled slowly, seductively. 'Or shall we go somewhere else?'

'I, er ... I ... have a confession to make,' Silver Mist said.

'Oh?'

'I've always been ... awkward ... with women,' he replied.

Mirage arched one eyebrow.

'What I mean to say is,' Silver Mist said, 'despite being August Cranley, wealthy socialite, all of that ... I have never ... er, you know ...'

'Never what?'

'I have never actually been ... to bed ... with a woman ... before.' The normally urbane, self-confident tone was gone, like a morning mist under a harsh noonday sun. He was blushing.

Mirage gasped and sat back, shocked. She watched as Silver Mist ran his finger under his collar.

'What, never?'

'Never,' Silver Mist replied. 'It was ... never called for. The women who were interested, quickly found other men who could satisfy them, and those few women whom I encountered as a Super were far more interested in killing me and enslaving the Western World, or some such. As such, in my life ... I never had much room, or time, for any kind of intimacy. But on a positive note, at least I was respected, and I had a clean reputation with the ladies. None of that NSIT malarchy.'

'NSIT?'

Silver Mist cleared his throat. '"Not Safe In Taxis," I believe it stands for,' he replied. 'You know, groping hands. That type. No class.'

Mirage hid her smile behind her hand. 'I'm sure I have no idea what you mean,' she said. 'Come on,' she added, reaching for Silver Mist's hand. 'Let me take you somewhere, then. Somewhere special to me.'

At the front desk, as they were donning their coats, two people entered the restaurant; a large, physically imposing man with a strong lantern jaw, muscular arms, broad shoulders and chest and a slightly receding hairline, and a slightly built brunette with slender limbs.

'Ah,' Mirage said, as everybody froze, unsure what to do. She looked at Silver Mist.

'I know these people,' she said. 'May I introduce you to, er ...'

'Robert Parr,' the large man said. 'And my wife, Helen.'

'Yes, of course,' Mirage said. 'Just two friends of mine.'

'More like enemies,' muttered Mrs Parr under her breath.

'Colleagues, surely,' Silver Mist said.

'Hardly,' from Mrs Parr.

'Helen ...' Robert said, quietly. He looked at Silver Mist.

'Oh, sorry,' Mirage said. 'May I introduce you to Mr August Cranley.'

'Pleased to meet you,' Silver Mist said, extending his hand. The Parrs shook his hand, Helen being more hesitant and reluctant at first.

'We're here to celebrate our wedding anniversary,' Robert said, quietly, to Silver Mist.

'Oh, congratulations,' Silver Mist replied. 'Please, don't let our unexpectedly bumping into you two spoil your evening. Please, put any unpleasantness which might have arisen out of mind. I do hope you both have a magnificent time.'

'You're a Brit?' Helen asked.

'Indeed I am,' Silver Mist said. 'And I must say, I consider any friend of my companion here to be a friend of mine.'

'I wouldn't exactly call us "friends ..."' growled Helen Parr, her fists clenching. Mirage's eyes widened.

'Associates, then?' Silver Mist said, feeling awkward. 'Erm, acquaintances?'

'Come on, honey,' murmured Robert, ushering Helen along. 'Let's get to our table, shall we?'

* * *

'Now that was awkward,' Silver Mist said, as they stood on the curb waiting for a taxi. 'Who were they?'

'They were Mr and Mrs Incredible,' Mirage replied. A taxi came around the corner; she flagged it down. They got in.

'Hey, remember what you said about certain types of people?' Mirage said, as they settled on the passenger seats. 'What was it - NSIT?'

'"Not Safe In Taxis," yes,' Silver Mist replied. 'A label I've striven to avoid acquiring.'

Mirage grinned, and laid a hand on his leg. 'I don't think I'd mind acquiring it.'

* * *

'Nobody knows about this place,' Mirage said, leading Silver Mist into the apartment. 'Not Syndrome, not the NSA. Nobody.' She smiled. 'It's my personal safe house.'

'A bit Spartan,' Silver Mist said.

'I altered a few plans in City Hall - this place is just a vacant storage unit. No occupancy. I routed utilities here, installed a landline, all the amenities.'

'So officially, like you, it does not exist,' Silver Mist said. 'Convenient.'

'Well, you did show me yours,' Mirage said, mischievously, 'and so it's only common courtesy to show you mine in return.' She turned. 'Kitchen's through that door, bathroom there, and of course the bedroom's just this way.' She glanced back at Silver Mist at the last. 'Want to take a little tour?'

'Er, sure,' Silver Mist replied. 'Why not?'

'Okay, then,' Mirage replied. 'Er, you can take off your hat and your clothes and hang them up over there. The coat rack.'

Silver Mist removed his hat and began hanging it up on the antique coat rack. He had a double take. 'Wait,' he said. 'You just said "remove your clothes." Not "coat."'

'Did I?' Mirage said, with a smirk. 'Silly me.' The smirk remained as she turned her face away. 'Come on,' she said. 'We'll start with the bedroom.'

'Don't people usually _end_ their tours in the bedroom?' Silver Mist asked.

Mirage's grin widened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene of devastation is only a day after the events of The Incredibles. Syndrome's robot has wreaked its havoc across the city, and while the fires have been put out, in part perhaps through Frozone's intervention here and there, and the bodies have been cleared, the wreckage has yet to be moved; including the wreckage of Syndrome's plane where it crashed into the Incredibles' family home.
> 
> It is also a few days after the Full Moon.
> 
> Silver Mist, in defiance of the traditional British stereotype, speaks a number of languages fluently, particularly French.
> 
> Silver Mist, aka August Cranley, is a Super with the following capabilities - control over mists and fogs; generation of dense fogs over a wide area; insubstantiality (phasing through matter), invisibility, the ability to turn into mist, teleportation. He is also supremely intelligent, rich, fluent in several languages, an inventor - he uses a smartphone with contemporary technologies which are way in advance of the 1970s era of The Incredibles - and unaging.
> 
> In every way, he is a Golden Age pulp hero who never grew old and faded away like almost all his contemporaries; which also shows in his gentlemanly attitudes and in his woeful luck with women, but not in his politics and beliefs, which are very modern and progressive: having fought bigots, racists and nazis in the past, and seen the harm bigotry can do, he has no wish to become a bigot himself.


	2. Rising Mirage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirage and Silver Mist explore Mirage's bedroom, and one another.
> 
> Later, they investigate Silver Mist's case, and his suspicions that an old enemy of his might now have a pair of Syndrome's zero-point energy gauntlets.
> 
> The trail leads Silver Mist and Mirage to a body lying in a park; a clue leads them to a burned-out laboratory, Florentine Laboratories; and then to the laboratory's owners, whose offices are in a building in the financial district, which Mirage has to infiltrate to investigate further.
> 
> In the park, Silver Mist bumps into Mr Incredible and Elastigirl; Mirage meets Elastigirl later in the office building, where Mirage realises that Elastigirl is also on the trail of Florentine Holdings.
> 
> Despite animosity towards one another, they agree to get on the same elevator car; but on the way up, Silver Mist's rogue Super nemesis The Flare gets the drop on them. Taking control of the elevator car, he puts Elastigirl and Mirage to sleep by flooding the elevator with gas through the vents and abducts them.

They removed their shoes in the living room before going into the bedroom. Both already had an inkling of what was going to happen there; they just did not voice their thoughts out loud.

'What do you think?' Mirage asked, when they entered the room.

'I like it,' Silver Mist replied, looking around. The double bed cover was plain white, as were the cushions and bedsheets. The walls were a lively light sky blue, with dark brown rug on a cream carpet. On the wall over the bed was a simple framed print of a red tropical sunset. There was a book on the nightstand. A small hardback Reader's Digest copy of Jane Eyre.

'Oh.'

'The bedroom in my place, by contrast, is a bit of netting stretched between two poles as a hammock,' Silver Mist replied. 'The Bright Sparks, apparently, never needed sleep or maybe they used bedrolls or sleeping bags or something, because I saw no bedrooms in there. Not even bunks.'

He pressed his hand down on the bed, feeling the mattress. 'Feels firm,' he said. 'And the bedsheets are very tight.' He fished out a coin and bounced it on the top of the bed. 'Hospital corners. You received training. Military or nursing, whichever one.'

'Yes,' Mirage said, drawing near to Silver Mist. She placed her hand gently against his back, sliding her arm about his waist. 'Which would be sexier tonight to you? The spy, or the nurse?'

Silver Mist turned to return her gaze. 'Neither. Just the woman standing in front of me,' he said.

Mirage, smiling gently, touched his cheek, moving in to kiss him.

Her lips tasted of wine and coffee; her breath was warm in his mouth as hers opened, her tongue tip brushing against his lips. His hands slid around behind her as she pressed her body against him.

She gave a soft moan as his fingers gently stroked the back of her neck. Parting for a moment, she looked deeply into Silver Mist's eyes. She needed no words. Stepping back from him for a moment, she slowly undressed, her dress sliding down her body into a small pile on the ground. She wore white stockings and suspenders, and small panties and bra covering her slight frame. Silently, she reached behind her to unhook her bra as Silver Mist slid out of his jacket, removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a firm, toned body crossed with a roadmap of faint scars.

Mirage, now topless, stepped back towards Silver Mist's body, tracing her fingers across his scarred chest. 'You've been in a lot of fights,' she whispered. Silver Mist ran his fingers gently down her arms, looking at the smooth skin of her shoulders and the slight curve of her small breasts.

'I have,' he whispered in return. 'May I?'

Mirage nodded. Gently, Silver Mist stroked his fingertips lightly over Mirage's breasts, sliding the tip of his index and middle fingers beneath her breasts, before cupping them and bending over to kiss her nipples.

Mirage ran her fingers through Silver Mist's hair as he kissed and licked her soft flesh, her eyes closed as she tensed from the little shivers of pleasure shooting through her body from her nipples. She gripped the hair on the back of his head, her hand clenching into a fist; biting her lower lip.

'Too much?' Silver Mist murmured.

'More, please,' Mirage replied, half gasping. Silver Mist went back to nibbling her nipples and toying with her breasts.

Suddenly, she stepped back a pace. 'Wait,' she whispered. Reaching for her stockings, she now began peeling them off her legs, one at a time. The panties and suspenders were next. She stood up in front of Silver Mist, naked, her cheeks flushed.

Silver Mist undressed in front of her next, dropping his trousers and stepping out of them, following up with his underwear, also grey. His socks, also grey, were last to be removed.

Mirage and Silver Mist now stood naked in front of one another, Silver Mist's erection standing tall and proud, pointing at her. Mirage looked down at it. Stepping forwards, her fingertip touched the tip of his penis, slowly circling the glans.

'You're not circumcised,' she said. Silver Mist gasped.

'I have ... protection,' Silver Mist said. 'Wallet in my pocket.'

'No need,' Mirage replied, stepping back away from him and crossing over to the side unit beside the bed. 'I have plenty,' she said, opening a drawer to reveal several boxes of condoms. She took one out, ripping open the foil of the packet, and brought it over to Silver Mist, expertly slipping it over the length of his shaft with one hand, sliding her fingers and thumb down along his hard flesh until she reached the base, then squeezing gently at the base for a moment, grinning as Silver Mist gasped.

'Now you're ready,' she murmured, taking him by the hand and sitting on the edge of the bed. Silver Mist followed, getting into a kneeling position on the edge of the bed with Mirage's legs in front of him. Stroking her legs with his hands, he gently pulled her thighs apart; looking up at her expectant expression, he leaned down to begin licking, kissing and nibbling at her inner thighs, probing the flesh with his fingertips as Mirage bit her lower lip, her eyes closing tight.

His tongue closed in on her vulva, circling the bare labia majora - Mirage had shaved, and the skin between her legs was soft and smooth. He lapped at her labia minora, as his fingertips sought out and touched her clitoris and began to gently circle her love bead.

'Oh, my God,' Mirage said. 'I thought you said you had no experience with women.'

'Doesn't mean I don't know anything about the female anatomy,' Silver Mist replied. 'I am a very quick study. And I learned from some interesting trainers.' He looked up. 'Seduction school doesn't count as a relationship. Does it?'

'Where did you go to a seduction school?' Mirage gasped, as Silver Mist's fingers kept finding her spot. 'Oh, please, right there. Just like that. Ooooh,' she crooned. Silver Mist's tongue tip had just found her clit.

Now his fingers slid in between her labia minora to penetrate her, slowly moving in and out, up and down, moving with increasing speed to stimulate her inside and out. Mirage's face flush began to creep down past her neck to her shoulders and upper chest. Her head and body began to arch back; her breath began to grow ragged and rapid as an orgasm began to build in her body, a lovely rosy glow that spread from the region of her vagina to touch and warm her legs, her abdomen and chest.

Mirage moaned with pleasure, feeling time slipping away. Syndrome had been good with her, but never attentive to her needs. This one - this British stranger, August Cranley, Silver Mist - now he was attentive. Her moan deepened as the feelings spread and deepened. Suddenly she stopped, touching Silver Mist's hair. Silver Mist stopped licking her and looked up.

'Finish me,' Mirage whispered. 'Come inside me.'

She climbed onto the bed, making room for Silver Mist to join her. Lying side by side, his fingers gently stroked her sides as she cupped his testicles, wrapping her long fingers around the base of his shaft. She looked in his eyes as she guided him to her vulva; feeling the tip of his penis stroking her labia, Silver Mist grunted softly and penetrated her, his penis sliding deeply into her vagina.

For a moment they lay together, holding one another, looking into her eyes. Then Silver Mist began to move, his penis moving deeply and slowly in and out of her body, a gentle pistoning inside her while he looked into her eyes.

'Like this?' he whispered. She placed her fingertips on his lips; he kissed them, and closed his eyes. Slowly, Mirage slipped her arms about him and began to move her hips, grinding them against his as he continued to move with her. Their arms brought their bodies together into a clench as their bodies moved, eyes shut, nothing being said, just their breathing as they moved and breathed in time, letting the pleasure build up in their bodies and souls, the orgasm building in their bodies, pulsing, spreading, growing within them, their breath shallowing, growing more rapid as it built up.

And then, like a wave cresting, becoming a breaker, the climax. Silver Mist felt Mirage tense, holding her breath. A moment later, Mirage gave a squeak, her body shuddering as she released a pent-up breath and collapsed into him. A short time later, it was his turn as, with a grunt, he released his load into the waiting sheath, groaning as he felt the pleasure pulsing with each contraction of his muscles, each spurt of his semen.

They lay side by side, together on the bed, holding one another until the waves of orgasm subsided; then they just held each other, Mirage moaning softly and breathing gently, her lips resting near Silver Mist's ear, Silver Mist breathing into her hair.

'It was never like that,' Mirage said. 'Not with him. With Syndrome.'

'I understand,' Silver Mist said.

'I mean,' she said, after a pause, 'he'd stay for a few seconds, and hold me, and for a moment I'd wonder whether he'd say something, or keep holding me, or just kiss me or ask me if we could have another go in a few minutes or something. But no. He'd settle down, let his climax wash away, and then he'd just get up and go over to the window and start pacing back and forth, muttering and plotting. It was the same every night we had sex.'

Silver Mist looked at Mirage, whose eyes were filling with tears. 'I am sorry to hear that,' he said.

'And what about you? Why are you here in Metroville?'

'I moved here,' Silver Mist said, 'to get away from the old country for a while.'

'How long for? You said a few weeks before. I get the impression you are thinking of a period a lot longer than that.'

'Try "forever,"' Silver Mist replied. 'There are ... problems back home, which I really wouldn't want to be forced to tackle right now. The government want me to go ... well, let's just say it's one of our closer little colonies. They want me to destabilise the ... opposition there, so to speak.

'I told my superior at the Ministry that I have troubles of my own to deal with, without having to go and deal with these people's troubles. That, and I voiced my opinion that I was getting a general sense that my government is somewhat lacking in ethics lately.

'The crooks on the street turning over banks and bookies are easier to deal with. My interests lie with justice, not subversion, conquest and subjugation; and the only corruption I deal with is the corruption I expose and destroy - something that does not sit well with me when I've been ordered to go there to foster and cultivate it, and cover it up instead.' He smiled, a grim rictus. 'I may work in darkness, but I am not of the darkness.'

They lay together in silence for a while. Suddenly, Mirage twitched.

'Strange vibration,' she said. 'Something under me is vibrating.' She fished underneath her, and took out Silver Mist's smartphone. 'Your tool vibrates,' she said.

'It entertains the ladies,' Silver Mist replied, taking it off her and checking the screen. 'Looks like a message from the computer. Fire at a laboratory somewhere. I'll head over and investigate it in the morning.'

'In the morning?'

'I don't feel any particular need to go anywhere tonight.'

'Surely you need to go out and be heroic, save the day and all that.'

'Plenty of crime out there in town tonight,' Silver Mist said. 'But right now, I have something really important to deal with, and it cannot wait.'

'And what would that be?'

Silver Mist kissed her lips gently. 'Holding you close,' he whispered, moving in to cuddle her, resting her head on his, closing his eyes and not noticing the tears streaming down her face.

* * *

She let him go, around 04:00. A body had been found in Crescent Park by police, apparently with massive contusions and what looked like every bone in his body broken.

Silver Mist turned up in Crescent Park in his own style; materialising out of a column of chill mist in a clearing near where the body was supposed to have fallen. Silver Mist adjusted his domino mask on his nose and checked his smartphone for directions - a glowing white arrow pointing ahead, to the left.

'Looks like the body's about ten o'clock from here,' he said, turning left. 'How far away?'

'Going by your location, about fifty metres,' Mirage said.

'Got you,' Silver Mist said. He began to push through the undergrowth a bit, then realised that he could do this another way. A moment later, and his body became translucent and insubstantial, allowing him to phase through the undergrowth with ease.

It was dark, here beneath the trees. The sky was cloudy, nothing but diffuse orange sodium light reflecting down from the sky; unable to penetrate the canopy of the trees, the space below was dark, but not silent; Silver Mist's passage disturbed the local wildlife, which scattered to get out if his way.

Silver Mist approached the edge of the clearing where the body had landed. There were police in the vicinity, but they were staying outside the cordoned-off area awaiting the arrival of the Coroner.

'I see the body,' Silver Mist said. He turned to approach it, pointing his smartphone at the shape lying on the ground.

'Man's lying on his back; he seems to be wearing a white lab coat, though underneath it he seems to be wearing street gear - jeans, sneakers,' he said. 'Looks like a lot of dirt scattered about the site.' He scanned the ground around the body. 'The ground here's soft. No footprints anywhere. Broken bones, contusions ... perhaps this is an impact site.' He looked up at the canopy, noting that the sky was visible above, an irregular oval of orange surrounded by black.

'Could he have come down from the sky?' he said, dictating into his smartphone.

'I don't know,' said a male voice from behind him. 'Perhaps you could tell us.'

Silver Mist turned around to look behind him. Two masked figures stood side by side on the edge of the clearing. The man was huge, compared to his slightly-built partner; both wore the same red leotards with the same lower case "i" logo on their chests.

'And who might you be?' he asked, strictly out of courtesy - he already knew who they were.

'If you're the one who put this man there,' the man said, 'we're the ones who are going to ruin your whole day.'

'It's night,' Silver Mist said.

'Don't get smart,' the woman snapped.

'Would you two be the Incredibles I have been hearing about?' Silver Mist asked. 'Just out of curiosity, you understand.'

'We'll ask the questions,' the woman said. 'Who are you, and why are you here?'

'Ah,' Silver Mist said. 'Philosophical questions. Start with the profound ones first -'

A fist sped through the space where his face was, passing through him and out the other side without disturbing Silver Mist.

'I should have told you I'm still insubstantial,' Silver Mist said. 'Matter won't hurt me while I'm phased. Can we resolve this without violence?'

'Sure,' the large man replied. 'As soon as you tell us what you're doing with the woman Mirage.'

'Why do you want to know?'

'Because she tried to kill us!' the woman said.

'Ah. So you two are Mr and Mrs Incredible, then,' Silver Mist said. 'Pleased to meet you. My name is Silver Mist.'

'What are you doing here? Did you cause this man's death?'

'Good questions,' Silver Mist replied. 'First of all, I'm investigating this man's death. Presumably, the same as you, only with one important difference; I'm not disturbing the crime scene by leaving my great big footprints on the scene. And second ... no, I didn't cause his death.'

'How can we take your word for it?'

'Because,' Silver Mist replied, 'I think I know who, and what, killed him.' He looked up. 'And I'll bet you know as well.'

He looked down at the corpse. 'This man seems to have impacted the soft ground fairly hard,' he said. 'Hard enough to virtually pulverise every single bone in his body; hard enough to spatter soil and dirt around him in all directions. He fell at a considerable velocity, probably from a very great height, and without a single apparent mark on him.

'Now I'll bet,' Silver Mist said, 'that you already know of a technology capable of grabbing humans and flinging them huge distances into the sky. A technology with stupendous power. A technology which, until recently, you thought had died with its inventor, one Buddy Pine, also known as ...'

'Syndrome,' Mr Incredible whispered. 'He's back from the dead.'

'Not him,' Silver Mist said. 'Someone who found his technology, or duplicated it, and who is now using it for his own evil ends.'

'So you're thinking that the bad guy might have Syndrome's zero point energy gauntlets,' Mr Incredible said, instinctively taking a step closer to Elastigirl as though to shield her. 'That could be bad. Very, very bad.'

'It could be, indeed,' Silver Mist replied. 'Particularly since I have a feeling I know who did this.'

'Who?'

'One of my old foes,' Silver Mist replied. 'Chap called The Flare.'

A glint caught his eye. 'What's that?' he asked, pointing to the ground, from where the metallic glint could be seen. 'Looks like gold or brass. Square, but with rounded corners.' He pointed the camera of his smartphone at it and zoomed in.

'It's a corporate pin,' he said, looking at the body. 'Torn off on the way down,' he said, pointing to a torn patch on the coat. 'Probably got caught by a branch.' He zoomed in further. 'Can only make out the first four letters on the badge - F, L, O, R -'

Light flashed into the clearing from behind them. Someone's hand flashlight. 'Hey!' More lights appeared, scanning the clearing. The sound of running footsteps drew nearer.

'Cops,' Elastigirl said, glancing at Mr Incredible. 'Let's get out of here.'

'Done,' Silver Mist said. Mist swirled up about them all.

* * *

'And then, after that, they let me go,' Silver Mist replied. He was back in the bedroom with Mirage, sitting on the edge of the bed. Mirage lay in the bed beside him, her head propped up on one arm.

'Did they attack you?'

'Well, Elastigirl tried,' Silver Mist said. 'Couldn't touch me - I was insubstantial at the time.'

'You were lucky,' Mirage said, rubbing her chin. 'She packs a hell of a punch, even ten metres away.'

'I noticed,' Silver Mist replied.

'What now?'

'I think,' Silver Mist said, 'we'd better look at the pictures back in the lab.'

'Sounds good to me,' Mirage said. 'Only not quite yet. Can we spend some more time here, and go back to the lab in the morning? After breakfast?'

Silver Mist looked at Mirage. He took off his hat and mask. Mirage smiled.

'But we'll go and see the lab first thing,' Silver Mist said, reaching to untie a shoelace. 'Then we're going for breakfast.'

* * *

'That fire didn't leave much,' Silver Mist said. Beside him, Mirage stood, blinking, in the light of early morning.

Around the cordon was a large crowd of people. Some of them were sobbing, being consoled by other people. 'Think they used to work here?' Mirage asked. Silver Mist nodded.

Before them, the laboratory complex was a burnt-out shell, still smoking, surrounded by fire tenders and firefighters. They had managed to bring the blaze under control, but a thick pall of smoke still hung around the area, and the burnt smell was everywhere.

Silver Mist discreetly pointed his smartphone towards what looked like the fire chief, a grizzly-looking man with a ginger beard shouting furiously down a handheld radio transmitter.

'What are you doing?'

'Eavesdropping on the fire brigade's frequency,' Silver Mist replied. 'He's calling it arson. Some saboteur deliberately started an electrical fire on the ground floor somewhere, and sabotaged the sprinkler system. The place went up like a torch.'

'Silver Mist, look,' Mirage said. 'What did you say the first four letters on the badge were?'

'F, L, O, R,' Silver Mist replied. 'The rest of the badge was half buried in the mud.'

'Look over there,' Mirage said. Silver Mist looked where she was pointing. 'The company's sign.'

'Ah,' Silver Mist said. The sign had a metallic yellow finish, a square with rounded corners, and carried a name.

Florentine Laboratories.

'Oh,' Mirage said, putting her hand to her mouth. 'I know this place. I never visited it, but ...' She looked at Silver Mist. 'This was one of Syndrome's assets.'

Silver Mist looked at Mirage. 'You know,' he said, 'Syndrome was pretty comprehensively minced when his cape got caught in the jet intake of his plane. And the includes his zero-point energy gauntlets.' He glanced at the burnt-out shell. 'Do you think Syndrome got those gauntlets from here?'

'Without access to his old records back in the old base on Nomanisan, I can't confirm anything,' Mirage said. 'But it's likely.'

* * *

'I have a hypothesis,' Silver Mist said. 'Want to hear it?'

Mirage stirred her coffee. They'd found a retro little diner on the road into town and stopped there to eat. The diner served free coffee for customers who ordered a full breakfast; they were still waiting for it to arrive.

'Go ahead.'

'The fire and the body in the park are clearly connected,' Silver Mist said. 'The story goes like this. Someone hires a thug to break into Florentine Laboratories. The thug goes in, bearing instructions on where to look and what to get. He goes in, gets the goods - a pair of zero-point energy gauntlets - and on his way out he sabotages the fire control systems and sets the fire as per his instructions, to cover his tracks, so nobody knows what was stolen.'

'Okay so far,' Mirage said.

'Then he goes to Crescent Park, as instructed, to rendezvous with his employer, presumably to give the man his goods and receive the second half of his promised payout Only it didn't quite go as planned. The employer puts on the gauntlets, uses them on his former employee, and instead of paying him money he flings him high into the air in a parabolic arc. Where the man lands, that's where we find him later. Sans gauntlets, with only his lab coat disguise and corporate logo badge as clues.'

'Sounds solid,' Mirage replied, sipping her coffee. 'Only, who hired him?'

'I hope,' Silver Mist replied, 'that it isn't who I think it is.'

'That man you were telling me about last night? The Flare?'

'The Flare,' Silver Mist replied. 'A Super from the old days, he went rogue, turned to the dark side. He can generate huge bursts of light from his hands. He has flight powers, he doesn't sleep or need to eat, he speaks eight languages and I've never heard him monologuing.'

'He sounds like trouble,' Mirage said.

'He can be,' Silver Mist replied. 'I've fought him many times. Ah. Here comes our order. I think mine came with the egg.'

* * *

'Where next, then?'

They were back in the financial district, watching the wreckage from a few nights back finally start to get cleared away. Cars which had been empty when they'd been crushed had been left there; the priority had been on those cars which had been occupied when they'd been stepped on, blown up or rolled over during the fight between the Incredibles and Syndrome's robot.

Silver Mist checked his smartphone. 'The owners of Florentine Laboratories,' he said, showing the readout to Mirage. 'Florentine Holdings, parent company Medici & Borgia International,' he said. 'Not very auspicious choices of names - they were the most notorious plotters and schemers of their day, and nowadays they're a byword for bad guys.'

'I don't think the general public noticed,' Mirage said. 'They probably thought that the companies represented old money from Europe, and never gave it a second thought.'

Silver Mist snorted derisively. 'The building's still open,' he said. 'I need someone to go in there and snoop around. Someone whom nobody will notice.'

'You mean me,' Mirage said, smiling. 'Okay. I have done this before.'

'I imagine you probably have,' Silver Mist said.

'And what's that supposed to mean?'

'When people look for Supers,' Silver Mist said, 'they always look for some guy in a leotard and a cape, or perhaps without the cape, but always a leotard. Something bright, colourful, flamboyant. Someone who stands out in a crowd, usually performing some act of derring-do and saving the day.'

He gently touched Mirage's chin and stroked her cheek. 'Nobody notices the Supers who just blend in, because that is their power. And sometimes, it's the ones who blend in who get the job done when all of us posers stop posturing.'

Mirage chuckled. 'I can't imagine you dressed in Spandex,' she said.

'I did, once, early in my career. Someone told me that I looked like a walking tube of toothpaste, so I started wearing this ensemble instead.'

Mirage stifled a giggle behind her hand.

'I'd better get on with it, then, hadn't I?' she said.

'Thank you,' Silver Mist replied. 'Oh. Here,' he added, holding out his hand. Mirage looked at the object in the palm of his hand.

It was a jewel box, opened. Inside, nestling on a bed of grey silk, was a lapel pin in silver, with a tiny sapphire at the end.

'It's beautiful,' she said, taking the pin out of the box and fixing it to her lapel. 'How do I look?'

'Like a shadow ready to infiltrate a building full of bad guys,' Silver Mist replied. 'Your turn to do some sleuthing now.'

* * *

It was remarkably easy for Mirage to just blend in. She waited outside the building until she spied a knot of businessmen approaching the main lobby; then she walked casually up to them and filtered through the revolving glass doors in single file with the rest of them.

In her hands she carried a Manila folder stuffed with blank sheets of white Xerox photocopy paper and yellow legal paper.

She took a few steps past the security island.

'Hey!'

Mirage looked back. The scruffy-looking security guard was rising to his feet. He pointed to her.

'What?'

'Your name badge,' he said.

Mirage looked down, patting her chest. She looked up, stricken. 'It's on my other suit!' she whispered, clearly alarmed. 'I forgot to swap it over! I am so sorry.'

The guard smiled, and handed her a temporary badge. 'It must be your first day on the job or something, honey,' he said. 'Here. Hand it back to me when you're going out, and don't forget to make sure your badge is on the right suit next time, okay?'

'Okay,' Mirage said, looking terrified and sheepish. Pinning the badge to her blouse, she turned to move towards the elevators at the back, quietly muttering 'Sexist, patronising, male chauvinist pig' to herself.

The elevators had already gone up, crammed full of the businessmen who'd come into the building with her. Mirage stood, waiting, tapping her feet. She was joined by another businesswoman in a neat suit, clutching a folder, impatiently awaiting the arrival of the next car.

'I had a problem with my badge,' Mirage said. 'I left it on the other suit -'

Then she recognised the brunette hair and heart-shaped face of the woman beside her. Helen Parr. Mr Incredible's wife, also known as Elastigirl.

'Oh,' they both said, simultaneously, before turning away from each other.

An elevator car began to descend. 'Here comes one now,' Mirage said.

'I can see it,' Elastigirl said, icily.

They stood in silence, quietly seething, until the car finally arrived at their level. It pinged. The door slid open.

'Do we wait for separate cars?' Mirage asked.

'No,' Elastigirl said. 'Let's do this.' They got in, and closed the door.

'Did you read the floor plan on the way in?' Mirage asked. 'I need floor seven.'

'Me too, curiously enough,' Elastigirl said, pushing "7" on the panel.

The elevator began to ascend. Both women stood, watching the light slowly rising through the numbers until it reached 6.

'Here we go,' said Elastigirl.

The light reached 7. The elevator car did not stop. 8.

'Something's wrong,' Mirage said, pushing "7" again. Nothing happened. The car continued to rise. 9.

Elastigirl pressed the stop button. No response. 10. 11.

When the car reached 14, Mirage began to feel strange. She looked at Elastigirl, who was leaning against the back wall of the elevator, yawning, her eyes half-closed, her head slowly nodding. Mirage felt woozy; yawning, she felt so sleepy, her eyelids felt heavy, her mouth felt cottony, and her legs didn't seem to be able to support her.

Slowly, they sank to the floor as the elevator car continued to ascend.

When it reached 100, the top floor, it finally stopped. The door opened. A man stood in the doorway, wearing a black leotard, yellow boots and shorts, with a large yellow sunburst symbol on his chest. His hair was blond, close-cropped in a military crew cut. He was wearing a full face gas mask.

He looked at the two unconscious women, and snapped his fingers. Gasmasked minions pushed past him into the elevator to pick up Mirage and Elastigirl.


	3. Falling Flare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elastigirl and Mirage wake up, to find The Flare looking at them. They are bound by cuffs to benches.
> 
> The Flare leaves them be, but the women quickly free themselves, steal two lab techs' uniforms and infiltrate The Flare's top-floor laboratory, where he has been building an artillery emplacement-sized version of Syndrome's zero-point energy delivery systems - a doomsday weapon which crushes its targets.
> 
> They are discovered and flee; Silver Mist drags them into a ladies' bathroom, explaining that he'd seen The Flare arrive at the office, and called for reinforcements: Mr Incredible and Frozone. Mirage, now accepted by the Supers community as one of them, joins the others in saving the day. It turns out that all she'd wanted was to be accepted and acknowledged by the Supers. after all.
> 
> In the aftermath, she calls up Silver Mist and asks him out.

Mirage woke up slowly, coughing. Her throat felt rough, as if she'd been smoking. Beside her, she made out the sound of another woman coughing.

For a moment, Mirage wondered what had happened, where she was and even who she was. Then the memory came back, in bits and pieces; a temporary badge being handed to her, a patronising pig of a security guard, the strange weakness in her muscles, loose papers falling out of nerveless hands to scatter on the floor, wondering why she couldn't seem to move to pick them up and wondering if someone would notice that they were all blank ... and then nothing else.

'Sorry your awakening is a little rough,' said a male voice in front of her. 'It's the gas I pumped into the vent in the elevator car. Recovery from the gas is worse on smokers, or so I've been told.'

Mirage turned to look. It was a stranger, dressed in black and yellow. Mirage tried to move, only to discover that she was chained by her wrists to a bench. The room was dimly lit by a single striplight overhead, and the door looked like solid iron.

'I couldn't take any chances,' The Flare said to the women. 'The guards at the island pegged you both as agents the moment you stepped into the lobby. It doesn't matter who you're with - FBI, I presume, though you could just as easily be ATF looking for illegal weapons - I just wanted to take a look at you first. H'mm.'

He turned, looking at a guard who stood beside the door. 'No special measures,' he said. 'Just keep them here, cuffed, until I'm done, then turn them loose.'

'What if they send someone in to find them?'

'They're going to have their hands full shortly,' The Flare replied. 'Go back to the control room. Resume the countdown.'

And then they were gone, leaving Mirage and Elastigirl lying on the benches, in chains.

Mirage turned to look at Elastigirl, who was still coughing.

'Have you been smoking?' she asked.

'No,' Elastigirl replied, looking at Mirage as she succumbed to another bout of coughing. 'Have you?'

A voice burst into life overhead: they both looked up at the tannoy. 'Countdown will resume, at T minus one hour, seventeen minutes ... mark,'

'Countdown?' Elastigirl asked. 'Countdown to what?'

'Another one who can't resist a countdown,' Mirage murmured.

'Yeah,' Elastigirl growled. 'That's the least of your problems. Once I get out of these chains ...'

'Can you?'

'What?'

'Escape those restraints?'

In reply, Elastigirl flexed her arms unnaturally, bending and stretching them, Her wrists, hands and fingers slipped through the handcuff restraints easily. A moment later, she was standing over Mirage.

'I don't have a key,' Elastigirl said.

'Lapel pin,' Mirage said.

'What?'

'Silver Mist gave me a lapel pin,' Mirage replied. 'Take it out and use it to try and pick the lock on the cuffs.'

Elastigirl plucked the pin from Mirage's lapel. A few minutes' work, and the first cuff sprang open.

'I was,' Elastigirl said. 'For a short time after we moved in.'

'What?'

'Smoking,' Elastigirl replied. 'I wasn't carrying my youngest then. There were just the two kids, and both of them were in school. My husband had found a new job, some insurance firm, so he was always off in the office, saving the day, one policy at a time, bringing home the bacon, and so I was alone five days a week, other than holidays. Nothing but me, wine and caffeine.'

'And smoking.'

'Always outside,' Elastigirl said. 'I never let the smell of cigarettes into the house.' There was a click. 'Ah. There.' She stepped back to let Mirage stand up.

'What now?' Mirage asked. Elastigirl moved over to the door and tested it. Unlocked.

'I guess they didn't think we'd be capable of breaking out,' she said. 'We're going to have to be able to move about, which means uniforms.'

Two female technicians came around the corner, wearing lab coats and carrying clipboards. They did not notice the half-open door, nor the two fists on the ends of elastic limbs which flew out of the dark aperture. Elastigirl groaned as she hauled the women into the room.

'I think these are about our size,' she said, looking at Mirage.

A few minutes later, Elastigirl and Mirage were wandering along a corridor, dressed in lab coats, carrying clipboards. A knot of uniformed thugs rushed along the corridor towards them and sped past them without recognition. Mirage looked at Elastigirl.

'That works,' she said.

'Let's go,' Elastigirl replied. 'They came from that room over there. Those double doors.'

'Let's hope it isn't just a squad room ... or a bathroom,' Mirage replied.

They approached the doors and pushed them open, peering inside.

'Yep,' Mirage said. 'This is the place.'

'Yes. I imagine the big screen against the wall, the huge death ray mounted on a platform in the centre of the room, the observatory dome overhead and the legion of uniformed, armed minions swarming about would be a dead giveaway,' Elastigirl replied, sarcastically.

'You two!'

The women turned. A bald, lank, elderly man in a lab coat, wearing pince-nez glasses and a goatee beard, was storming towards them, carrying a clipboard.

'Busted?' Elastigirl whispered, tensing her fist.

'I don't think so,' Mirage replied. 'Look.'

'Is there a problem, Professor?' she asked, as the man came up to them. Elastigirl saw the name on the man's badge, which read "Prof. H Rozencreutz."

'Yes,' the Professor said, handing Mirage the clipboard. 'I need to supervise the delivery of the uranium in the freight elevator. Can't trust it to just anybody. Mind the ECR for me.'

'At once, Professor,' Mirage replied, smiling. She looked at Elastigirl. 'Come along.' She strode into the room, bearing two clipboards, and casually discarded one on a nearby console.

'Oh, look,' Mirage said. A large display was counting down to zero on the wall opposite. She glanced at Elastigirl. 'Including my ex, who had his running on his computer back in Nomanisan, I never saw a bad guy who could resist a big, fancy countdown.' She looked around. 'I need you to look around. Pretend you're consulting your clipboard.'

Elastigirl looked down. 'Why?'

'Because I haven't the faintest idea where the ECR console is, or even what it does. I need you to help me.'

'It's that one over there,' Elastigirl said. 'On the left, in front. It has ECR on it.'

'Got it,' Mirage said. They crossed the floor to the ECR console, and looked at it, leaning close to the screens to speak in private.

'Energy Calibration Regulator,' Mirage said. 'Looks vital.'

'It measures energy output,' Elastigirl replied. 'Look at that - output is in gigawatts.'

'That explains the uranium,' Mirage murmured.

'Yes,' Elastigirl said.

'It was in college,' Mirage said.

'What was?'

'When I started smoking,' Mirage replied. 'I quit when I started working with Syndrome, but once in a while I'd sneak out and cadge a cigarette from one of the guards whenever I was on my own, and Syndrome was swanning around the globe, demonstrating and selling his weapons.'

Elastigirl nodded.

'Attention!'

Heads popped up over parapets. The Spandex-clad figure was standing at the base of the large weapon, resting his hand a flank of the machine.

'I normally don't waste my words,' The Flare said. 'You all know your jobs. You all know what is at stake. The countdown is underway. Time,' he said, 'to begin my demonstration.' He gestured. Switches were thrown. The platform began to rise towards the dome, as the dome began to slide open.

'Target?'

'Midtown,' The Flare replied. 'The structure at the coordinates you have been given in your briefing.'

'Coordinates set,' one of the console jockeys said, the sonorous voice carrying over the PA system.

Elastigirl checked Dr Rosencreutz's clipboard. 'I know that location,' she said. 'The Bird Building. A skyscraper, eight blocks from here. One hundred and twenty storeys. Mostly offices.'

'The device is almost at the aperture,' Mirage said. With a heavy clunk, the machinery settled in place, the barrel pointing out of the aperture in the dome. A grinding of servos and gears followed; the platform began to rotate as the weapon turned to face the target building.

'Target acquired,' the booming PA voice said. The big screen came to life, showing a tall skyscraper with a red target reticule superimposed on the image. As Mirage watched, the reticule turned green and the voice said 'And locked.'

'Look at that,' Mirage said. Elastigirl turned to see what she was looking at. In a glass case beside the wall was a pair of white gauntlets.

'Syndrome's gauntlets,' Mirage said. 'At least, the ones from Florentine Laboratories.'

'You think The Flare wanted them to duplicate some of its technology on a large scale in the weapon?'

'Likely,' Mirage replied. 'Nobody knows how he invented them.'

A rising whine from above caught their attention. They looked up. A blue-white aura began to flare in the long barrel of the weapon. Suddenly, with a huge crackle, it spat out a streak of light that flashed across the gap and struck the target building.

A sheath of blue-white lightning encased the Bird Building, similar to an effect witnessed first hand by Elastigirl some days back on a much smaller scale, back on Nomanisan and in her own former home. The building was entirely encased in this force field.

The Flare pulled a large lever.

The field shrank to a thin line. The building encased within it was instantly crushed into a mass of steel, glass, plastic, stone, wood and flesh, kept suspended in the vertical position by the force field. Another pull of a lever, and the force field shut down, the electrical whine slowly descending as the generators powered down.

Outside was a hideous rumble, accompanied by the blare of a thousand car horns and a rising wave of screams. A pall rose from around the site of the attack. Sirens began to approach the site. Lots of sirens.

'Oh, my God,' Elastigirl said. 'What has he done?'

'That went better than I hoped,' The Flare said. 'An irresistible crushing force. Remarkable.' He looked down at the minions at their consoles. 'Prepare the second target!'

'New coordinates set,' the sonorous voice on the PA boomed again. 'Location: Downtown. The Jack Kirby Memorial Hospital.'

Elastigirl looked at Mirage. 'Can you do something about this?' she asked.

'I think so,' Mirage replied. 'However, this is the wrong console. I would need to gain access to the targeting console, and possibly the field strength control console ...'

'Hey!'

The shouts came from the doorway. The technicians whose clothes had been appropriated stood in the door, dressed in the grey flannel suits Mirage and Elastigirl had been wearing.

'Guards,' said The Flare. Soldiers rushed to surround the women at the door, pointing their automatic weapons at them.

'It's us!' one of the women said. 'The Florentine technicians you hired, remember?'

'We got mugged,' the other woman said. 'They stole our lab coats - and _there they are!_ '

'Now we're busted!' Mirage said, as she and Elastigirl ducked behind a console. Guards pointed weapons at the console, but The Flare gestured.

'Stand down!' he barked. 'Don't shoot the damned consoles, for goodness' sake? Do you want this thing to feed back on itself?'

He looked at Mirage and Elastigirl. 'I can see you from up here,' he said. 'You can't hide from me.' He pointed his hand towards them.

'Move!' Elastigirl barked. She and Mirage barely had time to move before a searing beam of yellow light blasted from The Flare's hand, scorching the tiles on the floor.

The guards began to move, then, rushing into the room, directed by the boss's gestures to the console where Mirage and Elastigirl were hiding.

The first two guards to approach them were met by Elastigirl's fists, flashing out at them, felling them at a distance of four metres at the end of her stretching limbs.

Gasps of astonishment came from the assembled technicians, all of whom had assumed crouching positions beneath their consoles. Cries and whispers of 'She's a Super!' could be heard as Elastigirl and Mirage made a bolt for the door, Elastigirl's fists knocking the women technicians out of their way as they barely dodged another precision light blast from The Flare.

They raced along corridors as alarms blared, hotly pursued by a small knot of guards. As they wounded a corner, they realised that they had reached a dead end. There was only a toilet door on their left; a ladies' toilet. Suddenly it sprang open. A pair of hands grabbed them by the collars of their lab coats and hauled them into the bathroom before they could register what was happening.

'What the -?' Mirage said, as she lay sprawled on the ground. Elastigirl was ready to kill with her elastic limbs. Both looked up at the smiling visage of Silver Mist.

'I saw you going in,' Silver Mist said. 'You went in not long afterwards. But almost immediately afterwards, The Flare arrived at the rooftop heliport, on his own. Damned flighty Supers. Knowing that you would likely need some assistance taking down The Flare, I thought I'd come in and help out.'

'We don't need your help!' Elastigirl said, getting up to her feet to stand alongside Mirage.

'No, of course not,' Silver Mist replied. 'However, on the off chance that you might have, I thought I'd bring along -'

The door burst open. Two burly guards stood in the entrance, pointing their weapons at Mirage and Elastigirl. They took a few steps into the bathroom.

Two huge, meaty hands grabbed them from behind and effortlessly pulled them back out of the room and into the corridor. A few meaty smacks here and there followed, before silence fell. A large shape then stood in the doorway. Mister Incredible.

'- some reinforcements,' Silver Mist said.

The air grew chill. A slender figure dressed in blue and white entered the bathroom behind Mister Incredible, as Elastigirl embraced and kissed her husband.

'May I introduce an old friend of the Incredibles,' Silver Mist said, 'called Frozone.'

'Hello, Frozone,' said Mirage, stepping forwards.

'Are you the lady who worked with Syndrome to kill off all those Supers so he could pretend to be one?' Frozone asked. 'Hope you don't mind, Miss, if I don't shake you by the hand. No offence.'

'None taken,' Mirage replied. 'Will there be any more guards coming?'

'More than likely,' Silver Mist replied. 'They could be along here any minute, so we'd all better get into action. Elastigirl, Mirage; we need you to do whatever you were trying to do in the control room. Stop that device.'

'Got it,' Mirage said. 'What are you three guys going to do?'

'Distract The Flare and his men,' Mister Incredible replied. 'Oh. Almost forgot.' A sports bag landed at Elastigirl's feet. She opened it. It contained her costume. She looked at the men for a moment, before they realised that they were standing in a _ladies'_ bathroom.

'Let's keep watch,' Frozone said.

'I can do that from the corridor,' Silver Mist said. 'Invisibly.'

'Good idea,' Mister Incredible said.

Hastily, they left the room, leaving Mirage and Elastigirl alone.

'I haven't got anything to change into,' Mirage said, looking at her technician's white lab coat.

Elastigirl began removing her own lab coat and clothes. She looked at Mirage, her head canted slightly. 'Maybe a little tie dye?'

The Supers were back in business, doing what they did best. Beating up the bad guys. Stopping the fiendish plots.

Saving the day.

Mirage glimpsed Silver Mist as he began to fade out of sight. He saw Elastigirl fussing with her uniform, and remembered what he'd said about how the villains expected to see the heroes in Spandex, and never the heroes dressed in everyday street clothing.

And she now saw how the others - the Supers community - now had begun to accept her as one of them. In part, thanks to Silver Mist.

She smiled as Silver Mist gave her a little wink, before fading out. A faint outline of blurry air opened the door and stepped outside; Silver Mist was letting them know that he had left the room, and was not in fact still standing there leching at the half-naked Elastigirl. Elastigirl, in contrast, never seemed even to notice either way.

Outside, there was a huge, heavy boom. It sounded like somebody punching through a wall. There came a chill over the air conditioning system; a blast of Arctic air.

Elastigirl had changed into her uniform. She looked at Mirage.

'Just keep your head down,' she said. 'Let's go to work.'

* * *

One week on, after the battle. The Flare had been defeated. The day had been saved. Witnesses had been questioned by the NSA and their minds erased. Even Mirage had been given a new job - working for the Suits as a consultant. All was well in Metroville again.

Deep beneath the streets of Metroville, in the Bright Sparks' laboratory, a pair of white gauntlets lay on a glass scanning plate. The computer console to which the scanning plate was hooked delivered scores of readouts of the gloves' composition, energy generation, focus, control and delivery systems, the findings scrolling up the screen in glowing colour as the scan lines moved around the device.

A moment later, the automated scan was complete. The computer stored the data in a set of large files, ready to send out towards Silver Mist's smartphone. The files were stored in a directory next to a schematic of Silver Mist's own design, of a pair of amethyst rings set in silver, one for each hand.

The next phase in zero-point energy delivery systems.

His smartphone rang. Silver Mist set it on hands free. 'Yes?'

'It's me,' Mirage said. 'Is this line secure?'

'It always is,' Silver Mist replied. 'Do you have anything to report?'

'No,' Mirage replied.

'Ah,' Silver Mist said, slumping in relief. 'Not a business call, then. Good. Lives are not at stake.'

'Not from rogue supervillains, not tonight, no,' Mirage replied. 'But I was wondering ...'

Silver Mist was grinning. 'What were you wondering?'

'I was wondering about that lovely little restaurant we both went to the other night ...'

**Author's Note:**

> This story comes between the end of the movie and the start of the comics series, before Mirage teams up with Elastigirl to investigate Xerek's theft of the Eiffel Tower.
> 
> The conceit here is that (a) some Supers have unusual longevity / healing factor as a superpower; (b) the year of the setting, evinced by Lucius Best's use of Hai Karate aftershave, is about 1970 - which would be fifteen years after the Golden Age setting of 1955 when the Supers Relocation Act was passed in the movie; (c) technologies developed by Supers is more along the lines of 2013 than 1970, with capabilities unimagined by the mundane people of the day.
> 
> Mirage is very assertive in seducing Silver Mist. Apart from being chronically attracted to power, Mirage finds herself in need of company after the death of Syndrome.


End file.
